


With All My Heart AU magic reveal

by MonJoh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Arthur Finds Out, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friendship, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonJoh/pseuds/MonJoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein it is not so easy for Mordred to single-handedly defeat Morgana and the consequences when Merlin steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With All My Heart AU magic reveal

It was the perfect opportunity. Arthur was already aware that something odd was going on although the thought that Gwen was betraying him had never entered his head. It would not have entered my head a few weeks ago but I knew better now. Clearly Arthur doubted the queen’s story about my visiting a girl because of my obvious confusion when he brought it up the previous evening while I was serving them supper. Further suspicion had been raised in his mind by my feeble excuses to explain my limp yet there was not much I could say to expose Gwen’s lies with her sitting right there. The enchantment had not affected her intelligence in any way and I was certain she would convincingly refute the truth if I had shared it with Arthur then.

But I could not have waited much longer. If this chance had not presented itself I would have found another way to expose her, now. This deception had cost too many lives already – young lives. Tyr Seward had been a loyal and faithful groom, at least until Gwen threatened his mother’s life, and he had not deserved to die in that prison cell. His mother’s grief was difficult to witness, and there was no comfort anyone could offer her, but I could stop his killer before anyone else died in Gwen’s quest to kill the king. Daegal had no one to mourn him except myself, but he, too, could have accomplished so much more in his life. He had proved that by coming back for me. Without him I would be dead.

And Arthur – it had been a near thing with the poison. He had been lucky in the fall from his horse and of course I was there to help protect him from the ambush, but the poison – I was almost too late. And then the Sarrum’s assassin. Again that miss was too close for comfort. Next time Gwen attempted to murder him, Arthur would be dead.

But now was my chance. Arthur had announced a hunting trip, which naturally I as his faithful servant would accompany him on, and for once I was glad to do it. It would have been suspiciously strange for Gwen to come so I would have his attention without her interference. She might suspect that I would tell him what I knew, but she was probably confident that she could hoodwink him, anyway. I had a plan to deal with that. It would also be a perfect opportunity for her to meet with Morgana tonight while Arthur was away, which I was counting on.

I loaded the last of our supplies onto our mounts, then I waited patiently in the courtyard by the palace steps, holding the reins of my horse while a groom tended to the king’s mount. I was ready for Arthur to begin this hunt, ready to convince him of Gwen’s treachery and stop her once and for all.

 

It was broad daylight, plenty of hunting time left before we camped as far as Arthur was concerned, and it would be hours before I could put the next part of my plan into practice. But I dared not wait. Anything could happen, anything could go wrong; I had to act.

“Arthur.”

Whatever he was stalking took to its heels at the sound of my raised voice, the rustling of bushes the only sign of its passing. He turned to me with a familiar disgusted look.

“Merlin.”

I knew that tone. Before he could hit me or let loose a string of curses that would make Gwaine blush, I hurriedly continued. “Please, we have to talk, it’s important.”

“What the hell do we have to talk about in the middle of the forest while our prey makes its escape? One more minute and she would have been venison for tomorrow’s table. Do you do this on purpose?”

Well, I might have on occasion but it was a false accusation in this case. Mostly. “I have to tell you something when there is no possibility of Gwen hearing a word.”

That got his attention, now he was confused as well as mad at me.

“Make it good, _Mer_ lin.”

I took a deep breath. “Morgana put Gwen under an enchantment. She has tried to kill you a few times already.” The disbelieving look in his eyes was not encouraging so I made my arguments as quickly as I could. “She was in a position to threaten Tyr, and to murder him inside the citadel’s walls. She was at table with you when you were poisoned. She slipped the key to the Sarrum so his assassin could lay in wait in the gallery above the great hall.” I could imagine the thoughts running through his head, considering and rejecting any idea that Gwen was responsible for these recent events. “You wondered where I was that day I was missing, the day the Sarrum planned to assassinate you. You know Gwen lied about my whereabouts. The truth is that I was lured into a trap Morgana had set. She poisoned me and left me for dead and if it wasn’t for that boy neither of us would be alive now.”

I could tell he still did not believe Gwen could be plotting against him, but nor could he come up with any reasonable explanation to discredit what I was saying. I felt sorry for making him think so hard, it was not something he was used to.

“I trust Gwen absolutely. What you are saying cannot be true.”

“Arthur, I swear to you it is true.” I gave him my serious look, the one that said ‘this is important and you must trust me’. His expression wavered, torn between his trust in me and his faith in Gwen. It cut at my heart but I pressed on. “Have I ever lied to you?” Of course, the honest answer to that was ‘yes, since the day we met’ but he did not know it and there was a reason I had to keep that secret. I had never lied to him about anything important, not when his life hung in the balance.

“You must be mistaken,” he finally concluded.

“You do not have to rely on my word alone. Gwen will meet with Morgana tonight while you are away. I know the place. We will wait there in secret and you can see with your own eyes.”

As I had planned, he was amenable to this idea, certain that Gwen’s innocence would be proved. He was wrong.

 

***

 

On the one hand it had all worked out perfectly. Arthur had seen Gwen embrace Morgana while passing her information which would have cost the lives of Camelot knights, now he knew her true allegiance and his own danger.

On the other hand I had promised to release Gwen from the enchantment and now I had to smuggle the sedated queen out of the castle on a wheelbarrow, and she was a lot heavier than I had thought she would be, then we had to make an arduous journey in complete secrecy and _then_ I had to perform strong magic in disguise right in front of Arthur. Plus Gaius had set me up to pretend to be an old woman to un-enchant the queen which would take all the usual effort of an aging spell and more while I was simultaneously performing a rite which apparently only the strongest sorcerers can attempt. I wondered if I could pull it off, assuming the king and I even got to the Cauldron of Arianrhod safely and without discovery carrying an unconscious queen. The Cauldron was a good two-day ride plus a climb on foot to the highest peak of a barren wasteland, Gwen could only be kept sedated with belladonna for a maximum of three days, and no one could suspect the king of employing the use of sorcery. The situation would only be worse if Morgana was aware of what we were up to.

I knew why I had made that promise, though, besides wanting desperately to get Gwen back. I kept hoping that if Arthur saw magic used as a force for good he would reconsider his position, maybe he would think about whether all the evil Morgana had done with her power and the ways in which so many others had used sorcery against Camelot were really because magic itself was evil. If he saw it used to heal and to help, then I might have another chance to reveal the truth and make him accept me. Maybe I should have trusted him enough to take that chance sooner, but I was frankly too afraid of the risk. Whether or not I faced a death sentence I knew that I would have to leave Camelot forever, and I truly did not know what other life there was for me.

 

***

 

The journey went as well as could be expected until we neared our final goal. Now, however, we had to continue on foot and the arrogant prat refused to carry anything other than the limp form of his wife, leaving me with a load a horse would struggle under. To make matters worse I sensed someone watching us. I hoped it was not Morgana. This load was heavy and it was bloody hot out in this rocky wilderness and I was tired and I did _not_ want to have to play the bumbling servant while secretly using sorcery against a High Priestess.

I realized I should have been worrying more about the path under my feet than about Morgana when a rock slid from underfoot, causing me to stumble. The load on my back shifted and I could not catch my balance quickly enough to avoid tumbling down the steep, rocky slope.

 

I came to when Arthur and Mordred began hauling me up the incline I had tumbled down. _Mordred?_ I was perplexed as to how and when the king’s youngest knight had shown up. And why. I was most definitely worried about why.

It took time to haul everything which had fallen with me back up to the ravine’s edge, every action stirring up tiny rockslides which filled the air with dry dust. My throat was sore from coughing and I could feel bruises all up and down my body but even that was not as bad as Arthur’s constant stream of complaints about lost time, of course blaming me.

Mordred was trying hard not to snicker at Arthur’s taunts. I have not been able to figure that boy out, he saved Arthur’s life and he seemed to be sincere in his overtures of friendship but after everything Kilgharrah said and what the Druid Seer showed me I could not trust him; I knew that somehow, some way, maybe even in spite of himself, this young man was going to kill King Arthur.

By the time we salvaged what we could we had barely enough daylight to find a suitable spot to camp. We could only keep Gwen sedated for one more day without serious side effects. One more day, but we were close to the Cauldron now. It was enough time. Then the real test would begin. Arthur would have to play his part, he would have to convince Gwen to walk into that water of her own free will when Morgana’s enchantment would be fighting him all the way. Meantime I had to sneak away, perform an aging spell _and_ a glimmer and change clothes to make me appear to be an old woman, and then make my entrance as a sorceress and attempt to summon the White Goddess.

Mordred helped me set up camp and prepare a meal for us. I tried to be as polite to him as I could while juggling my worries about tomorrow along with my suspicions about his presence here. As usual Arthur did not lift a finger to help with any of it. At least I did not have horses to tend to on top of everything else.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, we sat for a moment beside our little fire sheltered by a ring of rocky crags in the barren ravine. It was full dark and cold at this altitude now that the sun had set, so I gratefully lounged next to the fire, enjoying a moment of peace. As peaceful as it could be with Arthur prattling on, making conversation with Mordred. The young knight was explaining why he had followed us. In a rare moment of insight Arthur realized that I had known someone was watching us.

“You had a funny feeling,” he remarked, obviously surprised that I had been right.

Mordred was confused. “My lord?”

“I’m glad that you followed us, Mordred. Without you, I fear I would have lost my arm at the very least.”

I am convinced that man will never appreciate me. If he knew one-tenth of the times I have hauled his arrogant royal backside out of one scrape or another …. “I would have woken,” I muttered.

“Merlin, if I had to rely on your timekeeping I would have lost both my arms and my legs to boot.”

That time Mordred did snicker. I gave both of them a spiteful glare.

“It’s good to have you with us. Three is always better than two, isn’t it Merlin?”

 _Dollop head_ , I thought. His amused grin was more annoying than usual. I was glad it was time to give Gwen her next dose of belladonna, but before I could get to my feet Arthur volunteered to tend her. Gratefully I watched him go, thankful for a moment of relief from his constant harping about falling into that ravine.

With everything weighing on my mind right then I was understandably a little short when Mordred took the opportunity to talk privately with me while Arthur was out of earshot. I managed to conceal most of my impatience but clearly Mordred was aware of my reluctance to speak with him. It did not stop him from moving closer to crouch beside me.

“You don’t trust me do you, Merlin?”

He was perceptive. “I believe you to be a fine knight.” It was the best I could come up with.

“But not one to be trusted?”

There was nothing I could say to that that he did not already know; thankfully I was saved from making any reply when he continued speaking.

“It’s all right, I know you have the king’s best interest at heart. I only wish you could believe I do, too.”

Honestly, I wished I could believe that myself.

“One day I shall prove my loyalty to you and to the king, then I hope we may be friends.”

“I could wish for nothing more.” He seemed satisfied with that answer.

As Arthur approached, Mordred moved back to the other side of the fire, across from me. The king’s expression indicated he could sense tension in the air between us but it was nothing new and he had so far simply left the two of us to work out our differences alone.

With what we would face on the morrow and nothing more to do tonight, I suggested we go to sleep. The others agreed and I gratefully let go of my worries long enough to get some rest.

 

We were awake at first light. We broke camp with all due haste and started on the last leg of our journey. We had finally made it to the westernmost and highest peak. This gorge led to the Cauldron. An abundance of colourful scraps of cloth tied to rough-hewn poles marked the pathway where pilgrims used to journey to the Cauldron of Arianrhod in a time when it was safe to practice the Old Religion in Camelot. Not that I believed for a moment there were no more pilgrims, they had merely learned to be more surreptitious in their ceremonies. It was not, however, the time for such journeys. It had been more than a day since we had seen another living soul, which added to the feeling of desolation in this rocky wilderness.

The wind which fluttered the flags blew dust into our eyes and noses and set me to coughing again. I shifted the strap of one of my packs, rolling my shoulder to ease the ache. That was when we heard the croaking shriek. My heart sank at the sound. Where Aithusa was, Morgana would be also. We had come so close.

A blast of fiery breath which forced us all to duck erased any doubt that it was the white dragon we had heard. After it had swooped over us it flew higher, still screeching. It broke my heart that the creature had attached itself to Morgana to the point where it would attack me.

I heard Arthur shout, “Here!” as he ducked behind a rocky outcropping, still clutching Gwen’s unconscious body. Mordred followed.

I stood for a moment longer, my eyes scanning the barren rocky gorge, knowing Morgana was here although I could not see her, then I ran to take shelter with the others.

“Morgana must be close,” Arthur helpfully stated the obvious.

I considered my options. I had to get rid of Arthur and Mordred so I could deal with the dragon while ensuring I did not attract Morgana’s attention as I was doing so. First things first. “You go, I’ll distract them,” I proposed.

Predictably Arthur argued with me.

“No.”

“You must,” I insisted.

“You’re the only one who knows where the sorcerer is.”

How right he was.

Aithusa made another pass, screeching all the while, but we were reasonably safe for the moment in our rocky alcove. Safe at least from the dragon if not from his mistress.

“We must get Gwen to safety, Sire.”

Mordred was apparently on my side. If only I could trust him. I was loath to allow him to escort Arthur while the king was burdened with a comatose and dangerous Gwen and Morgana was lurking nearby, yet I had no choice. I needed privacy to command Aithusa.

“Very well,” the king conceded.

So Arthur was going to listen when Mordred told him to go even though he had not listened to me, how typical. If the situation were not so dire I would probably have vented some of my frustration with him.

Arthur gave Mordred some kind of signal and the two of them made a run for it with the unconscious queen. The moment they disappeared over a rise of ground, I marched out. Aithusa flapped toward me. I strode forward to meet her.

“ _Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai_!”

The dragon did her best to come to a stop in mid-flight, turning with a squawk to immediately fly back the way she had come as quickly as she was able. I knew she would not be back any time soon, but my moment of triumph was short-lived.

Voices in my head made my blood run cold.

“Why don’t you kill me?” It was Mordred.

“My anger is not with you, Mordred. How could it be? We’re of a kind.”

“Never.”

Obviously Morgana had found him, which meant she had found Arthur. I sprinted in the direction of the silent voices. When I topped the rise, I stopped to assess the scene before me. Mordred stood in the middle of the dusty path, facing Morgana, shielding the king who still had Gwen in his arms. No doubt it was making him crazy that Mordred was left to defend them until Arthur could ensure Gwen’s safety.

I saw the king take advantage of Morgana’s focus on his young knight to slowly crouch down with the intention of laying his burden on the ground, almost certainly so he could attempt a suicidal move against Morgana’s sorcery armed with only his sword. Of course, his sword _could_ kill her, although he did not know it, not that he had the slightest chance of getting that close to her before she blasted him.

“Where is Emrys?”

Morgana spoke aloud this time. I saw Arthur pause momentarily, no doubt in confusion about who she was referring to, but he continued dropping into a crouch so he could gently set Gwen down. She was still out cold.

“Emrys?”

Mordred was covering for me and I was grateful.

“You pretend you do not know of whom I speak.”

“It is a name I’ve only heard of.”

“He’s not here? With you?” She looked relieved and disappointed at the same time.

Mordred shook his head.

“Then I have no further use for you.” She lifted her hand but his next words caused her to hesitate.

“You would strike one of your own?” he silently thought at her.

His words made her pause in the act of striking at him with her magic. She must still be attached to the boy despite his literally stabbing her in the back the last time they met because she would not have hesitated to strike at me or Arthur or anyone else.

“I am not strong enough to defeat you, Morgana, but know this – such hatred as yours can never triumph. I hope that one day you will find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart.”

The shattered look on Morgana’s face was heartbreaking. I thought she was beyond remorse for anything she did, but his words had struck her to the core. Then he lifted his hand as though he was about to attack her with his own magic and in answer she tossed him aside to land without moving on the rough ground. If the animosity between them was all a ruse, they were playing it to the hilt in their efforts to kill each other.

Arthur wasted not a moment. Free of his burden, he drew his sword and took one step toward Morgana but she had already turned her attention on him with an evil smile, her eyes cold as ice. What she sent at him looked a lot like the pillar of fire Morgause had tried to use on him in the Castle of Fyrien, the sound of rushing wind combining with the roar of fire, although it was much smaller than that column had been. He blinked in the glare and held up an arm to shield his face. I shuddered to think in what horrible way that incantation was meant to kill him.

As I had then, I whispered “ _Miere torr sweoloþhat_ ”.

The resulting explosion was not as severe as the one which had leveled the room in the castle and blown everyone backward through the air. It was, however, powerful enough to knock Arthur off his feet.

Morgana wore a bewildered expression. She glanced down at her hands, then shot a look at Mordred, still prone on the ground, showing no signs of consciousness. With her concentration on Arthur broken while he was temporarily incapacitated, her eyes fell on me. She did not realize that I had cast the spell which countered hers so my identity was safe, but that would not stop her from venting her frustration on me again. She _was_ aware that I always managed to foil her schemes in some way.

The loathing in her gaze made my blood run cold. “You have defied me for the last time! _Ástríce_!”

I saw the lightning bolt coming at me and dodged aside. It narrowly missed me, exploding on the dusty path in a cloud of flame and smoke which sent shrapnel flying in all directions. I landed on my left side, feeling rocks scrape against my hands and cheek and cut into my side. I barely had a chance to lift my head when she sent another fireball at me.

Despite what could be inferred from some of my past actions, I actually had no wish to die. And letting her kill me to protect my secret would be counter-productive, since the reason I had so carefully hidden my identity from Morgana until now was to keep myself _not_ dead so I could protect Arthur.

Fortunately I had seen her trick before. Instinctively I lifted my right arm with the back of my hand held outwards. I absorbed the fireball into my hand, feeling the power of the blast tingle up my arm. In a way, it felt like the dragon spells I had held, like magic compressed into a solid that I could hold. Like Nimueh had done, I rolled that hard ball of magic around in my palm, watching sparks randomly shoot from it as I got to my feet.

Morgana’s eyes widened in surprise, then a look of dread came into them such as I had only seen before as an 80-year-old man. “Emrys,” she whispered.

“ _Forbærne! Ácwele_.” I sent the fireball back at her, watching as it hit her full in the chest. She disappeared. I had seen that trick before as well, although I had never been reckless enough – or desperate enough – to attempt such a dangerous spell myself. There was no telling where she had transported herself; she had escaped again, probably with her life. I dared not hope that I had stopped her permanently. But we had time now to complete what we had come here to do, to save Gwen.

I turned my attention to Arthur only to realize that he was not out cold as I had thought, but had already gotten to his feet and retrieved his sword. I felt the blood drain from my face. What had he just seen, and how could I explain it away? My eyes met his where he stood frozen in place. The look on his face told me it was too late to make excuses. I opened my mouth anyway but my mind went blank.

“You …,” he sputtered disbelievingly. “You are a sorcerer.”

The hurt and betrayal in his face crushed me. “Arthur,” I whispered.

As I stood speechless, his pain was replaced by anger. I saw his hand clench the hilt of his sword as he started toward me, then his foot brushed against Gwen’s prone body. He looked down, reminded of why we were here.

I squared my shoulders. “You came here to find a sorcerer. You have.” I had not meant to sound so harsh, but I was battling my own hurt at his reaction, that he doubted me.

His gaze remained fixed on his wife. Concern for Gwen warred with anger at my deception.

Guilt for putting him in a position where he had to deal with this revelation while his wife was locked in the grip of Morgana’s enchantment made my tone softer this time. “Arthur, I promised we would get her back.”

I held my breath, waiting as he stared down at her. Without looking at me he nodded. He sheathed his sword and bent to pick Gwen up again. When his eyes slid to Mordred I moved quickly to check the young knight. Arthur watched me, then accepted my indication that the boy would recover. The moment he was assured Mordred was safe he refused to look at me again.

I led the way around the next bend in the pathway to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. It was a pool of blue-green water surrounded on three sides by steep crags, accessible only by the path which led to its shallowest point. A few splotches of green marked places where determined weeds and scrub brush made a home in the rocks. More colourful flags mounted on rough poles lined the trail, leading us toward the water.

“Lay her there, next to the pool,” I instructed.

Arthur’s back stiffened at my voice, then he obediently laid the queen gently on the rough ground where the path dipped down to the water’s edge. He stayed next to her, as though she needed protection. I wondered if he was protecting her from me.

“Arthur, the magic that has ensnared Gwen is strong. I will do everything in my power to battle it, but it may prevail.” The look he shot me was unreadable. “I just wanted you to know that I’m fighting for her.”

He returned his gaze to his wife. A curt nod acknowledged that he understood.

“I will wake her, but you must be prepared to reach her, reach the part of her that is untouched by Morgana’s evil. She must walk into the water of her own free will, no guile, trickery, or force.” We had, of course, already discussed this but I felt it necessary to repeat it again. “When she wakes you will have only a few moments.”

Arthur did not move away, standing stiffly next to Gwen’s prone form as I knelt beside her and whispered the enchantment that would dispel the last lingering effects of the belladonna.

Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. She sat up, looking around in bewilderment and fear. “Where are we? What have you done to me?” She leapt to her feet, apparently prepared to bolt.

Arthur grasped both her arms, preventing her from running away. She struggled against his hold.

Then her eyes fell on me and a cunning glint came into them. “What lies has Merlin been telling you about me?”

I caught my breath. If Arthur believed this was all a ruse, and in his current state of mind I was afraid he might just decide that as a sorcerer nothing I had shown him or told him could possibly be the truth, then there was no hope of saving Gwen. I knew _I_ could not convince her to walk into that pool in defiance of Morgana’s hold on her.

But a deep sadness coloured his voice as he said hoarsely, “Guinevere, I saw you embrace Morgana and tell her the levy routes.”

Her face turned ugly. “You stupid man! You are so easily fooled! I never loved you, it was all a subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful queen.”

“I don’t believe that,” Arthur said doggedly.

“Believe what you like! The fact remains.”

She was shouting while she continued fighting to get away from him. In anger Arthur began to drag Gwen toward the water.

“No, it must be of her own will,” I reminded him forcefully.

His head turned slightly in my direction but he did not look at me. Instead he looked back at Gwen. “Do you remember when I asked you to marry me? Do you remember what you said?”

Gwen was not struggling as hard against his hold, her eyes fixed on his face.

“You said ‘with all my heart’, that’s what you said, Guinevere. No subterfuge, no trickery.”

She was still now, staring into his eyes.

“With all my heart,” he repeated, letting go of her arms and stepping backward. He backed slowly toward the water until he was knee deep. “With all my heart.”

Gwen was transfixed, a look of anguish on her face. Finally, she walked slowly forward. “With all my heart,” she whispered.

He held out his hand. “Come.”

She waded into the pool, taking his hand, then continued deeper until the water covered her waist. I began chanting the words of the spell that would summon the White Goddess, my voice growing in strength as I could feel the tug of the Silver Wheel fighting me, trying to hold on to Gwen’s spirit. I pulled against those bonds, using every bit of my power to wrench Gwen free. Suddenly the bonds went slack. I could feel a lightness, a presence, glowing like the purest white light and causing me to blink in its brightness. The same sense of awe I had felt in the sacred grove of the Disir came over me again but tenfold. This was what those pilgrims came to glimpse – the presence of the goddess the Disir spoke for. Her touch healed Gwen, washing away the venom of the Teine Diaga which had enslaved the queen’s mind and spirit.

As the spell’s hold was broken relief and joy warred with guilt and horror in Gwen’s expression. Joy won out and she held out both hands to Arthur, who plunged deeper into the pool, armour and all, to take her in his arms. Their embrace brought tears to my eyes and I turned away to give them a moment of privacy for their reunion.

When I heard a splash of waves stirred by their exit from the water and the swish of soaked skirts I turned back. Gwen did not hesitate to wrap me in a hug, squeezing me tightly, the brightness in her eyes matching mine.

I was now almost as wet as she was, but I was so relieved to know she was well and whole again that I did not care. “It’s good to have you back, Gwen.”

“Thanks to you.” She returned my smile, releasing her hold on me and stepping away. “I could feel you fighting for me.”

Arthur stood stiffly beside her, wrapping one arm around her again protectively.

She gazed adoringly up at him but a frown crossed her features at his grave expression.

He was regarding me directly for the first time since I had revealed my magic in the fight with Morgana. His expression was not encouraging. “You are a sorcerer, you have magic.” It was stated as an accusation.

“Which he just used to save me,” Gwen stressed.

He met her gaze levelly. “It was also sorcery that bewitched you,” he argued implacably. “It is evil and dangerous and it corrupts those who practice it.”

This was said directly to me. It felt like a knife had been driven into my chest. For the first time ever I wondered if he was more like his father than I had thought, using magic for his own personal gain when it was convenient for him while holding in contempt those who wielded it. If that was true, if he was just like Uther, then all my faith in him had been misplaced, my dreams for a kingdom that accepted magic again were dead, and my destiny would never be fulfilled. I felt like the bottom had dropped out of the world.

Some of my despair must have been written on my face because a look of contrition flashed across his features before stubbornness settled in. “I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust. You have lied to me all these years.”

Guilt came back to plague me at the truths he stated so baldly. “I wanted to tell you, but …,” my voice trailed off. How could I explain? Maybe I had been wrong to keep it from him, especially after Uther’s death. He was waiting for an answer, an honest answer. I gave him the truth. “If you had known who I really was I would have had to leave Camelot, to leave you, and I could not bear to go.”

Surprise and uncertainty cracked the rigid mask. Apparently he was not expecting that reply. But he was not willing to concede, either.

“Magic and sorcery corrupted Morgana, changed her from a friend into a sworn enemy.”

“Not magic,” I argued. “Fear and bitterness changed her.” And my betrayal. “Fear of Uther sentencing her to death if he had known, fear of your rejection, hatred of everyone she felt turned their backs on her.”

“She has used her power for nothing but destruction.” Arthur’s own bitterness coloured his voice. “She has marched armies across my land, burning and killing, executed my people, burned their crops, and destroyed whatever was in her path.”

I was well aware of the havoc Morgana had wreaked in her self-appointed quest to bring magic back to the kingdom. Gaius and I had treated those who had suffered most because of the famine which followed her destruction of the crops a few years ago – the youngest and the oldest, the sick, the destitute – the ones always hardest hit by such a disaster. Some had survived. It was only now that the last effects of hunger had ceased to be felt by the weakest inhabitants of Camelot’s outlying villages. And of those who had been wounded in the battle, of the families whose husbands or fathers had fallen, many were now forced to live in the poorest sections of the city having lost their sole means of making a decent living. Morgana did not care about any of them.

“She took Guinevere and I almost lost her.” Arthur looked down at his wife then.

What I knew of the Teine Diaga told me that Gwen had suffered unimaginable horrors in the Dark Tower while Morgana held her prisoner. But surely Arthur did not believe me capable of using magic that way.

“And Merlin used his power to save me.” Gwen’s tone brooked no argument from the king. “And probably you, more than once in all these years.”

She slid a questioning glance at me which I answered with a slight nod.

She clasped Arthur’s hand in both of hers to temper her unyielding tone. “Arthur, there is no evil in magic, only in the hearts of people. You know Merlin is your friend.”

My heart swelled at Gwen’s defense of me. I waited silently, knowing Arthur must be remembering all those besides Morgana who had violently rebelled against Camelot or attempted revenge on Uther because of his persecution of sorcerers. Hopefully he was considering whether their actions were truly due to the evil nature of magic or merely a human reaction to oppression. I really did not know what I would do if he rejected me, if he banished me from Camelot or passed the death sentence demanded by the law.

“I’m sorry,” he began, shaking his head.

My heart sank.

“Arthur,” Gwen warned.

“I thought I knew you.”

It was not his words but the look in his eyes that caused hope to spring up in me.

“Gaius told me one day I would understand how much had been done for me, but as often as I have wondered what he meant, I never did understand. I had no idea.”

My breath caught in my throat as I held his gaze.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about this, but you needn’t look as though I was about to order your execution.”

If he meant that as a joke I did not find it funny. My expression apparently amused him because he unbent enough to punch me in the shoulder. I tried not to wince.

“We have a long journey ahead of us. Let’s collect Mordred and you can explain some things to me on the way home.”

He had used his kingly commanding voice, but it sounded as encouraging as it did ominous. I looked at Gwen. Her smile promised me that all would be well.

“You should have told me, Merlin.”

For once he might be right and I might have been wrong.

“You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“Arthur, I’m sorry.”

“Well, we have a three-day ride for you to fill me in on everything that’s gone on under my nose without my knowledge.”

“ _In three days_?” I exclaimed. Try three months, if I talked fast.

His expression would have been comical if I had not known that his anger at being deceived was going to be directed at me. But he settled for a scowl before he and Guinevere started up the sloping path away from the pool. I was about to follow when Arthur stopped in mid-stride and turned on me with an indignant expression.

“Your streak of luck at dice last week in the tavern.”

Years of oblivion and _this_ is his flash of insight.

“Well.” I really did not have a good explanation, other than he had been particularly overbearing that day and it had seemed a harmless bit of payback to win all his money from him.

“You cheated!”

 _Well, duh_. Again with stating the obvious.

“What else don’t I know?” he demanded.

It was time for the truth. “I put another hole in that belt.” The way his eyebrows snapped together told me that was too much truth. “Morgana claims that no mortal sword can kill her but yours can.” That might be useful information for him some time soon.

Perplexed, he glanced down at his sword.

“And it can kill the dead.”

“The sword my father forged?” Gwen asked in surprise. “I recognized it when we were preparing for the battle against Morgana and Helios, it’s the one I gave to Merlin years ago.”

Arthur looked at her, then at me. “The one that my ancestor supposedly buried in a stone generations before I was born?”

“You knew I made that story up.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t figure out how you got it stuck in that stone. I guess I know now.” The dawning comprehension was just as quickly replaced with curiosity. “How does it have special power?”

“I … enhanced it,” I drawled, wondering if he would be satisfied with that. Nope, that was definitely a ‘keep talking’ expression. “With the help of a friend.” And that was a ‘keep talking, or else’ expression. “The Great Dragon.”

Curiosity changed to outright shock. “The dragon that I ...”

Another flash of insight. Honestly, how arrogant did he have to be to believe that he had slain a dragon while unconscious on the grass? He took a step closer but I held my ground.

“From now on, _Mer_ lin, do you promise to tell me the truth?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “Whenever it’s in your best interest.”

He stared at me for a moment, probably deciding whether to hit me now or later.

“It’s worked for us up until now,” I argued.

An eyebrow lifted. “How has it worked?”

“You’re still alive. And that’s been a job and half, I can tell you.” A job that was likely to get harder instead of easier now that Morgana knew who I was and with Mordred around to play whatever part he was destined to play in Arthur’s death. But I was going to keep him safe, regardless. That was, after all, my destiny.

A malevolent smile spread across the face of the Once and Future King. “Well hopefully you’ll be able to squeeze in all your other tasks because you have to collect our gear, set up camp, make supper – Gwen must be starving.” He looked at her questioningly and she nodded. “Dry our clothes, tend to my armour …”

I sighed.


End file.
